


Office Snack

by Daebakinc



Category: Kpop - Fandom, NCT (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daebakinc/pseuds/Daebakinc
Summary: After discovering Doyoung's secret list, you decide to bring him a little snack at the office.





	Office Snack

A cool fall breeze whips leaves across the sidewalk and naughtily finds its way up the bottom of your coat. But it’s not the only reason for the goosebumps crawling up your spine. You’re about to do something that definitely ranks among the craziest things you’ve ever done. But it’s better to not think about that and just ride out the excitement. 

The night security guard, Lucas, lights up the instant you walk into the office building’s lobby. After many nights of dropping off your boyfriend’s dinner or picking him up, you and Lucas are good friends. “Hey, sunshine!”

“Hi, honey,” you reply cheerfully. You hope he doesn’t notice the slight tremble in your hands or the over-wideness of your smile.

“Coming to retrieve Mr. Over-achiever again?”

“We’ll see. I brought bribes just in case my charms don’t work.”

“Bribes?” Lucas leans over the desk to peer at the bag in your left hand. He takes a deep sniff then sinks back into his chair with a devastating puppy pout. “I wish I had a girlfriend who brought me ‘bribes.’”

Never let it be said you don’t come prepared. You open the bag and take out a small container. “Well, until then, I didn’t forget you.”

A bright smile bursts onto his face as he eagerly accepts it. “Please tell me these are what I think they are.”

“Snickerdoodles with buttercream frosting, just like last time. I’ll see you in a bit. Maybe.” You wave as you walk towards the elevator.

With half a cookie already in his mouth, Lucas shouts back, “Thanks! Good luck!”

Doyoung’s office door is open when you reach it, but you stop just before it and peek inside. A smile warms your lips at the sight of him.

The light of his computer glints off his glasses where they sit on the edge of his nose. From the sleeves of his navy suit jacket to the front of his white shirt, his appearance is perfect. All except for his ruffled hair. He musses it again with frustrated fingers. Doyoung frowns and mutters something to himself. He furiously taps at the keyboard.

Time for an interruption.

You knock on the door, laughing when he jumps so jerkily his glasses fall off. “You look like you could use a break.”

“I could use a pacemaker, that’s what I could use,” he says, weakly laughing with you as you shut the door behind you. “What’re you doing here?”

“It’s late.”

Doyoung glances at his watch and curses under his breath. “How did it— I’m so sorry. I really just wanted to finish this report. I didn’t realize…”

“It’s alright.” You cross the room to tip up his chin and kiss his forehead, smoothing away the regret in his expression. “Wrap it up quick and then we’ll go home.”

This time, Doyoung stretches his neck to kiss your lips. “I won’t be long, promise.”

You swat his hands away from the keyboard. “First, you have to eat something. You skipped lunch again, didn’t you?”

Sheepishly, he points out a slim wrapper sitting on the top of the trashcan. “I had a granola bar?”

“That does not qualify as a meal.”

“It says it does…”

“Wrappers lie. It was probably ninety percent sugar.” 

Pushing aside a pile of folders, you make room for yourself to sit on his desk. You empty the bag of its two remaining containers, one filled with cheese slices and one with cut fruit, and pack of crackers. With a piece of cheese and a slice of apple, you make a tiny sandwich and offer it to him.

He takes a bite and his stomach grumbles. Laughing, he shyly asks, “Have I told you you’re an angel lately?”

“Not lately,” you reply, stacking a few more cracker sandwiches on the container lids.

“Well, you are.” As he eats his fifth, Doyoung frowns at your bare legs, exposed to the knee. “You’re wearing shorts in this weather? You’ll catch a cold even with that coat.”

You shrug and cross your legs so that the coat rides up farther to show the beginnings of your thigh.

“I know you love looking cute, and you are, but summer’s over. Just how tiny are those shorts?” Doyoung scolds.

He rolls his chair in front of you and tugs at your coat. The belt’s knot effortlessly falls apart and the sides of your coat part.

Doyoung’s eyes widen, darken. His mouth drops open with a soft, “Oh…”

Midnight blue lace spills over with delicate flowers and tangled vines on jet silk. It sensually embraces the curves of your chest and accentuates their fullness with a ribbon that holds the bralette in place. A matching pair of panties hugs your hips.

“I found your list,” you say, heated pride in his reaction flooding your veins. You chose wisely. 

Doyoung’s gaze is enraptured, absolutely powerless. He doesn’t respond at first, belatedly looking up at you with glazed eyes. “List?”

“Your list.” You reach out a finger to play with his tie and give him a wicked grin. “The one you keep in your sock drawer. I went to borrow a pair and there it was.”

A bulleted list of kinks. Some crossed out, some underlined. None of which Doyoung had had the courage to ask you yet. With your conflicting schedules, it’d been weeks since you’d given each other more than a sleepy kiss goodnight. After finding that list, you’d decided to change that and here you are.

His mouth snaps shut, blood rushing to his ears. He tips his head towards his lap. It’s unbearably cute, but cute isn’t what you’re aiming for at the moment.

“Doyoung….” You wait until he glances up at you through his eyelashes. “I didn’t mean to snoop. Are you upset I found it?”

His eyes drop from your face to linger on the lingerie. You can feel the ghosts of his hands tracing your curves with adoration. It sparks the beginnings of a hot, intoxicating pull in the pit of your stomach. Doyoung shakes his head.

“Then you know why I bought this just for you? Wore it here just for you?”

Doyoung nods. His hand goes to his tie, loosening it as if it’s suddenly too tight.

Grabbing the tip of his tie with your fingers, you slide them up the smooth fabric and pull him closer. His breath hitches and you can almost hear his heart thudding like a sledgehammer. Perfect.  
“Doyoung,” you whisper, “what do you want to?”

He licks his lips. Those beautiful eyes stare back into yours, flooded with desire. But uncertainty lurks beneath. This is something new. Something he wants, but new nonetheless. Doyoung just needs a little coaxing, a little reassurance. Then you can both get what you want. What you need.

“No one but Lucas is here and he’s all the way on the first floor. No one at all,” you assure him. Minimal risk, but just enough to provide that little thrill. You continue, keeping your voice deep and soft as you lean in, “There are no cameras in here, only outside. No one’ll be any wiser except you and me.”

You let your lips brush against Doyoung’s cheek until you reach the corner of his mouth, letting him breathe in your perfume, feel your flushed skin. His hands bunch the fabric of his slacks. He’s so close. So close to giving in to you and himself.

“But, if you don’t want to…” You sigh, pushing your chest out with a roll of your shoulders and releasing his tie.

When you reach for the coat’s belt, Doyoung’s hands fly to your wrists. “No!”

You bite your lip to stifle your laughter at his reaction. As if you would leave now. He’s so easy to tease, to get a rise out of. And it only makes this game all the more fun. “So you want me to stay?”

In place of a reply, Doyoung’s lips take yours. He lurches out of his chair to crowd you against the desk. Grappling at the coat with desperate movements, he strips it from your shoulders like it offends him. A hot hand at your back presses your torso to his while the other protects your head from hitting the desk’s top as he pushes you down.

But you barely feel the cool wood or the roughness of his pants. Hunger for all that Doyoung is, his taste, his touch, consumes your blood in response to that same hunger conveyed by his lips. Your mouths fuse together as assuredly as your arms chain each other together. Doyoung’s body covers yours so perfectly.

Your legs hook around his hips, ankles naturally locking to bring him closer, closer. Despite the chilled air that’s synonymous with offices, your skin burns. It burns with Doyoung’s greedy touches up and down your side, across your breasts, rhythmic tightening in your hair. It burns to feel his naked skin slick against yours. Without barriers.

“Get this off,” you mutter, when Doyoung mouth finally slides from yours to lap at your neck. Your fingers tremble as you tug futilely at his shirt buttons.

Cool rushes to fill the space as he jerks up to obey your wish. Doyoung makes such short work of the buttons it’s a wonder they don’t all fly off. As he fights to get his undershirt over his head, you sit up. He’s taking too long. If you can’t feel him now, you’ll go insane from the roaring need for him that fills your ears.

Your hands fly to his belt. Tearing at the buckle, you yank down the zipper and thrust your hand past his briefs. Doyoung freezes, moans deep in his throat as your fingers close around him. His head falls to your shoulder when you begin coaxing strokes along his length.

“You’re distracting me,” he mutters, teeth grazing your skin between pants.

“Sorry not sorry. Here.” Releasing him, you unsnap the front clasp of your bra and shrug it off. “How about now?”

Doyoung laughs, strips off his undershirt, and kisses you soundly. “Even worse,” he says.

He swallows your whimper as he thumbs your nipples. With his hands and his mouth, his perfect, beguiling mouth, Doyoung kindles that burning into fires everywhere along your body. Until it feels like you’re shimmering with need.

His own need grows against your core where your bodies meet. Your hips brashly, naturally, beg for him, rocking and squirming against him. Just as you needed to touch him, so now you need him buried inside you. Urgently. Unashamedly.

Sensing this, or perhaps being driven as mad by your movements as you are his, Doyoung breaks from your kiss. In the dim light of the office, his eyes are even darker, filled with a craving that has your entire being tingling. He plants an openmouthed kiss at the base of your neck, in the valley between your breasts, above your bellybutton, over the top of your panties’ band.

You catch yourself on your hands when Doyoung’s hands grip your bottom to wrench you forward. In less than a second your panties join your discarded bra on the office floor.

Doyoung stares at your form, completely bare just for him. He licks his lips and for a moment, you want nothing more in the world than for him to send you over the cliffs of ecstasy with his mouth alone. The thought unconsciously moves your thighs to press together for some relief.

His hands catch your knees, pushing your legs open again. Gently, but undeniably.

When he lifts his eyes to yours, you fumble through the folds of your coat and pull out the condom you stashed there before you left your apartment.

“I’ll do it,” Doyoung says quietly.

Giving it to him was a mistake. He makes a show of it, letting you watch his fingers rip open the packet, watch his long body stretch so the lean muscles play beneath his pale skin as he drops his pants. Then watch him sheath himself so slowly you’re surprised you’re not drooling. 

You hold out your arms to him. Doyoung falls into them to claim your lips, breath, and mind. He surrounds you and with one smooth thrust, fills you. Your body jolts from the sudden blossoming of your pulse of need into an all-consuming, throbbing need.

Doyoung’s body answers with its own need conveyed with undulating rolls that push him deeper and deeper each time. With his kisses that would’ve surely brought you to your knees if you were standing. With his hands that raise goosebumps along your skin as they tease and please in equal measures.

Until the pads of his fingers find your swollen sex. What had been delighted murmurs and hushed pants erupt into moans and sobs. They rise and fall with each touch, weaving with Doyoung’s own sounds of unadulterated sensuality in a timeless harmony. If anyone had been on the same floor, there would be no doubt what the two of you were doing.

“Wait,” you pant. “Wait.”

Doyoung stills instantly. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just wait.” You push him away with a hand on his stomach, ignoring the twinge of emptiness as he slips out of you. Scooting off the desk, you turn around and lay stomach down on it. When Doyoung doesn’t move, you glance over your shoulder at him. Arching your back and wiggling your hips at him, you purr, “Need an invitation?”

A smirk quirks his lips, revealing his teeth. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you murmur, sighing in relief when Doyoung’s hands anchor themselves on your hips and you feel his tip find your core again.

Any other thoughts become instantly impossible as Doyoung’s hips resume their brutal, breathless rhythm. You try to match his speed, pushing back against him. But gone is the gentleness, the savoring. Your hips jackhammer together, skin smacking on skin. 

Your breath stutters the closer you race to your orgasm. You drop your head onto your hands and give in. Doyoung’s pace is driving you towards the brink of madness and when you wildly fly over it, the very air seems to shatter.

A hot release filling your core signals Doyoung joining you in ecstasy, as if the beautiful groan ripped from his chest wasn’t sign enough. You can feel his legs trembling where they at last rest still against yours.

“Fuck,” he says softly.

He pulls away for just a moment, then returns to wrap his arms around your middle. Doyoung slides back into his chair with you nestled in his lap. You’re more than happy to lean against him, absolutely limp. Your bones have been replaced by the feelings of being soft and weak and blissful. From the way Doyoung’s head lays against your shoulder and his chest presses against your back with each deep breath, you guess he’s just as incapable of moving.

Once both your breathing is more regular, he spreads butterfly kisses across your shoulder and neck. Using a kiss to punctuate each word, he says, “You are amazing. And that doesn’t even start to cover it.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” You giggle.

Doyoung says something else, but it’s muffled against your skin.

“What was that?”

“I’m glad you found my list,” he clarifies.

“I am too.”

“Were… were there other things on there you’d be willing to try?” he asks.

You smack his hand without force. “You’re still thirsty after we just had mind-blowing orgasms? I don’t know about you, but I’m really glad I didn’t wear heels because walking is going to be trouble enough.”

“True. I’m really glad I left my stilettos at home.” You feel his grin against your back.

“Sure you did. They go better with your black suit anyway,” you tease.

Doyoung sighs and nuzzles the nape of your neck. “We should move.”

“We should.”

“But in a few minutes.”

“Agreed.”

By the time the elevator dings to announce your arrival in the lobby, more than a few minutes later, you’re both properly dressed with minimal dishevelment. Maybe your eyes are a bit brighter, your hair still a little damp from sweat, and you are wearing Doyoung’s undershirt over your lingerie now, but for all appearances, you haven’t just had mind-blowing sex.

“Finally dragged him away, did you?” Lucas greets you. “Took you long enough.”

“Things were a little more complicated than I thought,” Doyoung replies with a casual shrug. His hand tightens on yours and you squeeze back. “But we’re on our way now. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Lucas.” You wave as Doyoung pulls you away. “Don’t eat all those cookies or you’ll get a stomachache.”

“I won’t. Just so you know, if Doyoung doesn’t marry you, I’m next in line!” Lucas calls after you.

“No way, man,” Doyoung shouts back. Leaning down to kiss the top of your head, he says for your ears only, “She’s all mine.”


End file.
